Queen Maeve snorted disdainfully, twirling a glass of whiskey in her hands, sitting away from prying eyes and damn conversations. The girl kept her face well in public, although she understood that the fact that they were standing in front of the cameras was the only thing required. Simply put, this is concrete shit. Apart from showing his strength to maintain the reputation of the seven.

She looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps she was glad to have someone like you, not to say that you were friends, but there was always a feeling of understanding, something unspoken, comfortable. You were like a personal manager in case any problems needed to be fixed. The red-haired girl sat comfortably on a soft chair, crossing her legs.

"Any problems again?" Well, you just came to her in case of a disaster or someone's whim. She examined every inch of your body, face, hair, only to smile at the end, sipping whiskey. "Is this a new suit? How flattering that the company cares about the image of not only supers." She grinned sarcastically, placing the glass on the table.